


Overtime

by anexperiment



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Boston Bruins, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, I'm a big fan of long fics so buckle up, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Slow Burn, although that's pretty standard for this genre, i don't even know what i'm doing, kureinen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-03-30 21:53:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19036312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anexperiment/pseuds/anexperiment
Summary: Danton just wants to have a good season. Well more specifically, he wants to live up to his rookie year, crush the fucking maple leafs, win the Stanley Cup, and play hockey with his best friend. One of these ends up a little more complicated than he expects.





	1. October

**Author's Note:**

> First chapter is a short one! Next one (thanksgiving!) will be longer.

October 16, 2018

 

Danton tugged at the laces of his skates, blocking out the noise of the locker room. His fingers trembled as he yanked them off over his foot and shoved them roughly into his stall. He knew Bruce was talking, but he couldn’t bring himself to listen. He had needed the morning skate to go well. Yes, it was great that the team had smoked Detroit on Saturday. But Danton had spent the evening watching from the press box, and after this practice he expected he’d be up there again tomorrow.

It wasn’t that Danton thought he didn’t deserve to get scratched. In the first four games of the season, he’d registered six penalty minutes and only two shots on goal. After his breakout season the year before, the team expected—and needed—more from him. It was just that he _knew_ he was better than this. Yet, the longer he went without producing, the more likely he was to freeze when the puck hit his stick in front of the net.

Danton cursed under his breath and pulled his shirt on. As he leaned forward to zip up his bag, he could feel Brandon examining him out of the corner of his eye. He knew he wouldn’t say anything. That’s why Danton liked rooming with him on road trips; neither of them felt like they had to talk if nothing needed to be said.

“See you at the plane tomorrow, Dan.” Brandon rose and headed towards the door, and Danton realized that the locker room was almost empty. He managed a mumbled goodbye in response and stood, turning to grab his jacket.

“Ready to go?” Danton looked over his shoulder to see Sean twirling his lanyard around his finger. He wasn’t sure when it had started, probably sometime in Providence, but Sean always gave him a ride to practice, even though he had his own car. Danton’s lip twitched in a half smile. He had always liked Sean, but it wasn’t until their trip to China this summer that he really began to consider him a close friend.

“Sure. Did you talk to Matty about your skate blade?”

“Yeah, he’s gonna make sure it’s all good before we leave tomorrow.” Sean swung the door open and fell into step next to him. They walked down the hall in silence as Danton studied the floor in front of him, running through every missed shot in his head. He eventually became aware of Sean practically bursting with energy next to him, and he glanced over. Sean had a great game on Saturday, scoring with 1.3 seconds left on the clock, which Bruce had publicly praised him for today. Danton suspected that his uncharacteristic silence was an effort to be sensitive to his wounded ego from the healthy scratch, and sighed internally.

“Hell of a goal.”

Sean’s eyes lit up and he grinned. “Thanks! I mean it was only one of eight, but it was nice of Butch to say something.”

“Don’t be an idiot.” Danton rolled his eyes. “It was a good shot, and most people would have stopped playing if they were up by six with two seconds left.”

Sean laughed and Danton felt himself smiling. They reached Sean’s car, and he slid into the leather passenger seat. The sleek Mercedes E-Class was Sean’s pride and joy. “Riding in your car always makes me feel like a douche.”

“You are a douche,” Sean replied smoothly, and Danton chucked a balled-up receipt at him. “Hey, don’t get trash in my car!”

“It’s your trash, I found it in the cupholder!”

They bickered for the next twenty minutes, and by the time he waved goodbye to Sean from his front door and received a middle finger in response, he felt lighter. Sean always seemed to have that effect on him. That’s why he kept him around, right?

 

October 18, 2019

 

            Danton drummed his fingers against the bench, anxiously watching the game in front of him. He had been right about Bruce scratching him again the night before, but tonight he was in and on a line with David and Jake. More than halfway through the second period there were no points on the board, and he could feel the frustration clouding the air around the players.

            “Krech, Jake, Heino!” Hearing his name called from one of the coaches, he leapt over the boards as the lines changed. Skating in a tight circle, he moved toward Yamamoto who was racing up his wing with the puck. Skidding into him, he knocked the puck away and it sprung to the boards. Scrambling at it with their sticks, Danton A-framed against the Oiler until Brandon swept in to gather the puck. He skated past the red line alongside the tall defenseman and chased the puck into the corner, but an Oilers defenseman beat him to it. Pivoting, Danton cursed his legs and followed his man.

            In a heartbeat, the gears in his brain began to spin as two Oilers collided and he jumped on the puck. Scanning the ice, he spotted Matt cycling to the boards and floated the puck to him, moving to take his spot at the blue line. Jake was throwing his weight around in front of the net, and that must have screened Talbot just enough because when Matt slid the puck to David, his shot sank right into the net short side.

            “Hell yeah!” Danton raced over to the huddle forming on the far side of the net. “Let’s go boys!” He reached up to pat Matt’s helmet and he slung his arm around David’s shoulders as he felt a glove tap his head in response. He couldn’t quite put words to the surge of relief he felt when he glanced up toward the replay and saw he’d get credited with the secondary assist. Maybe it was selfish of him to focus on his stats sheet right now, but at least Bruce would see he was worth _something_.

            “You gotta work on your cellys Krech!” Jake laughed. “Nice shot!” The five of them broke apart and skated toward the bench, gloves extended for high fives and fistbumps.

 

            They ended up losing the game in overtime, but Danton couldn’t help but be happy as he changed and packed up his stuff. He’d always been a pretty mellow guy, and thought he’d been successful at hiding his joy until he heard someone come up behind him as he reached for something on the shelf of his locker.

            “Hell of a play,” came the whisper.

            He turned to see Sean grinning at him as he jogged backwards to his stall for press interviews. Danton smiled.


	2. November

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided that Thanksgiving is going to be its own chapter since this one became longer than I intended... it'll come soon though!

November 8, 2018

 

            Danton relaxed into the front seat of his car and let out a breath. Fifteen games into the season, he finally had a goal. It hadn’t been a pretty game. Despite the Bs putting up five points, the Canucks had beaten them by three. He hadn’t even felt right celebrating when he saw the puck flip off his stick and past Jacob Markstrom.  It was just a power play tip in anyway. He let his head fall forward against the black leather of the steering wheel and winced as the horn let out a sharp honk, but didn’t move.

            Why were they so shitty? The general consensus in the league was that this was the Bruins’ last real chance to make a cup run with the current core. But even considering the team’s rash of injuries, they just _sucked_. Between the strength of their veterans, killer fourth line, and the great previous season he, Jake, Charlie, and Matt had, he really thought this was gonna be their year.

            A loud rap at the window made him start. Danton glared up at the offender, his face softening imperceptibly as he saw Sean peering in at him through the passenger side. Unlocking the door, he blinked blankly at his friend as he watched him slide in and slam the door behind him. “Didn’t you drive here?”

            “Yeah,” Sean muttered. “I need a drink.”

            Danton nodded slightly at his unspoken question. “Sure. Bar or my place?”

            “Yours. I don’t want you driving after and you know I don’t drink alone.” Sean glanced at him, jumping in again before Danton could respond. “If that’s okay.”

            “Yeah of course. I think you still have some stuff in the guest room from the last time you crashed there, actually.” He decided not to mention that he had washed and folded the shirts that Sean had left balled up in the back of the closet, hoping that he would just assume that he was the one who left them lined up neatly on the dresser.

            Sean sighed, running a hand through his hair and closing his eyes. “Thanks, Danny.”

            Danton started the car and pulled smoothly out of the Garden parking lot. They rode in silence the rest of the way to his apartment, which worried him until he turned into his apartment complex and saw that Sean was asleep against the window. He stared at him for a minute, unsure if he should wake him as it was steadily approaching midnight. Finally, he prodded him gently with the back of his hand.

            Sean stretched, his long body dwarfing the front seat of Danton’s sedan. Rubbing his eyes, he mumbled something about stupid Canadians and climbed out of the car. Danton chuckled and followed him into the lobby and up the stairs to the second floor. Handing Sean his bag so that he had his hands free to turn the key, he flicked the light on in his apartment and made his way to the kitchen.

            “What’re we drinking?” Sean tossed Danton’s bag on the recliner and set his own duffle down just inside the door of the guest room.

            “I’ve got beer and some Captain Morgan.”

            “Beer takes too long.”

            Danton laughed. “We have practice in the morning, dumbass.” He reached into the cupboard for the handle anyway, turning to pour a few fingers into the glasses that Sean had procured. “We can do rum on one condition.”

            “What’s that?”

            He raised an eyebrow. “No talking about hockey tonight. I need a break.”

            Sean grinned tiredly. “Me too.” He walked over to the loveseat, handing Danton his glass and reaching to twist on the light. Danton perched sideways at one end of the couch with his legs sprawled out across the cushions, and Sean sat facing him, one foot on the ground and the other tucked between Danton’s calf and the back of the couch. “Fatass.”

            Danton scowled. “You weigh like 25 pounds more than me.”

            “It’s all muscle, D-Heinz. That’s why I get laid more than you.”

            He scoffed and threw back the last of his rum, already reaching for a refill from the bottle he left on the coffee table. “You fucking wish.”

            “It’s true!” Sean leaned forward to top his cup up as well. “When’s the last time you got some?”

            Danton squinted at the ceiling, thinking back. “Just a few weeks ago actually. Girl I knew growing up called me when we were in Vancouver.”

            Sean gaped at him. “You didn’t tell me that! We’re best friends, we tell each other these things!”

            He rolled his eyes. “You knew this. I always go see her when we play up there.”

            “Oh. Right. Anna, or Anne, or something.”

            “Annie. Yeah.”

            “You know, you’ve never told me if it’s any good.” Sean smirked at him through the bottom of his glass as he took a sip.

            “If _what_ is any good?”

            “The sex.”

            “ _Jesus_ , Sean.” Danton felt the blush climb rapidly up his pale cheeks, trying his hardest to glare at the man snickering on the far side of the couch.

            “One day, Danny, I will get you drunk enough to tell me all the sordid details of your sexploits.” Sean grinned at him. He was enjoying this way too much, Danton noted.

            “Hey, just because I don’t rate my orgasms on a scale of 1-10 for the whole locker room to hear doesn’t mean I don’t get laid,” Danton teased.

            Sean laughed, standing and walking to the window to look out, already swaying a little from the alcohol. “Nothing wrong with being as sex positive as myself!” Danton shook his head. Despite the ribbing, Sean was not the womanizer he painted him as. Sure, he got his fair share, but that was to be expected from a professional athlete as good looking as he was. “Hey Danny?”

            Danton looked up. Sean was still staring at something on the horizon, playing with the curtains with the tips of his fingers. “What’s up?”

            “Is it just sex?”

            “Huh?”

            “You and that Annie girl. Do you think you’ll start dating her, or are you just fucking?”

            “Oh. No, it’s just sex. We decided it was just a friends-with-benefits kind of thing. Honestly, she’s kind of boring, and I’m pretty sure she things I’m an arrogant asshole.” Danton leaned back against the couch. Sean had been half right when he said that he didn’t get laid much. Annie was the first consistent thing he had in a while, and to be honest he wasn’t quite sure how he felt about regularly sleeping with someone he didn’t have feelings for. Sure, he had the occasional one night stand while on road trips, but those were few and far between, and this felt different.

            “Great!” Sean spun around, grinning. “Can’t have my fellow bachelor getting tied down before me!”

            “Sean Kuraly? Tied down? Bullshit.” Danton managed to put his—now empty—glass down before the pillow hit him.

November 9, 2018

 

            The rum was a bad idea. Danton rubbed his temples as he leaned against the rail of the bench at Warrior Arena. He nodded wordlessly as Sean handed him a Gatorade bottle, looking just as gray as he felt. After taking a drink, he pushed away from the bench and skated along next to him toward the line forming for shooting drills. “This is your fault,” he muttered.

            “I know, I know,” Sean groaned in response. “It usually is. You really shouldn’t listen to me.”

            “I’m not going to anymore.” That was a lie.

            “Good, I don’t want to drag you down with me.” That was a lie too.

            “Hey boys!” Chris skidded to a stop next to them. “You look great this morning!”

            “Morning Wags.” Sean managed a weak smile.

            “Shut the fuck up,” Danton grunted simultaneously.

            “Wow,” Chris laughed. “If that doesn’t sum you two up, nothing does. Are you guys going home for Thanksgiving?”

            Danton blinked. He hadn’t thought about it. Holidays as an NHL player were pretty shitty. They really only had one day off for Thanksgiving and that was nowhere near enough time for him to get home to Langley. “I’m not. I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

            “Me either.”

            “Well, in that case, do you guys want to come to my place? It’ll probably be just the three of us, but we can whip up something good for dinner and have a low-key day.”

            “That would be awesome!” Sean beamed, clapping a hand onto Chris’ shoulder.

            Danton grinned. “I’d love to man, thanks!” Thanksgiving at the Mayor of Walpole’s house seemed a hell of a lot better than spending the evening by himself. He liked Chris a lot, and a holiday with him and Sean sounded like a blast.

            “Great! I’ll text you guys at some point next week with details.” Chris tapped Danton’s helmet and skated off in Bruce’s direction. Danton stared after him and turned to Sean.

            “Wags is the best.”

            “I know! We should try and make him a pie or something.”

            “Can you bake?” Danton laughed.

            “Not at all. But I’m sure we can figure it out!”


	3. Thanksgiving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. Was in post-cup mourning. Finally got to write a chapter with some ~feelings~

November 22, 2018

 

            Danton squinted at the screen of his phone, trying to make sense of the poorly formatted list.  He was leaning over the counter in Sean’s kitchen, small shreds of apple coating the knife in his free hand. “This recipe makes no fucking sense.”

            “We’re using store-bought crust Danny, it can’t be that hard,” Sean’s voice echoed and Danton looked up. The upper half of his body was completely inside the oven, long legs straddling the door and propping him up.

            “What the actual fuck are you doing.”

            “There was something burnt onto the floor of the oven. I don’t want to-“ he let out a muffled grunt as the metal object in his hand shrieked, dislodging the offending piece of food. “-burn my apartment down when we preheat it.” Sean awkwardly backed out of the mouth of the oven, straightening and chucking a burnt object into the trash.

            Danton raised an eyebrow. “You have charcoal on your forehead.”

            Sean rolled his eyes and grabbed a paper towel, wiping his face as he moved to lean on the counter next to him. “Okay Gordon Ramsey, what’s your issue with the recipe over here? The filling is finished. We’re basically done.”

            “I don’t know, this page is formatted weird and it seems like it’s cutting something off in the last steps. It could be important.”

            “Ah, I’m sure it’s fine. Let’s just stick the top layer of crust on and call it good!”

            “I don’t know…” Danton frowned. This could be a crucial step they were skipping.

            Sean sighed. “It’s fine, Danny. What’s the worst that could happen?” Danton opened his mouth to reply before realizing that it was a rhetorical question. Sean had already set the last layer of crust on the pie and was fiddling in his drawers for a fork to vent it with. A dusting of flour sat right on the curve of his ass, stark against the black of his athletic shorts. Danton smirked. The idiot would find a way to get flour on himself even while baking with a store-bought crust. He opened his mouth to chirp him for it but his breath caught in his throat as Sean turned and caught his eye.

            Flicking his gaze down to his hands, Danton felt the tops of his cheeks grow hot. Brow furrowed, he mumbled something nondescript about the latest episode of Game of Thrones that he had watched. Just like he knew he would, Sean exploded into a rant about the symbolism of the direwolves and Danton had a moment to think.

What the fuck was that? He shifted in his seat. The team changed in front of each other every day. So why did he just decide that making a comment about the flour on Sean’s ass would be weird? I mean, he wouldn’t want Sean to think he was staring at his ass or anything. Not that it wasn’t a nice ass. As a matter of fact—Danton stopped himself. Finishing that thought would definitely cross the line into weird.

 

“This is the ugliest fucking pie I have ever seen.” Chris stared at them, mouth slightly agape. Danton was holding a blackened, squished pie that didn’t even slightly resemble a circle.

“It was Danny’s fault.” Sean chirped, ducking into the doorway before Danton even had a chance to register what he said.

“What! I told you we were missing a step!” He protested, following him into the kitchen and placing the pie on the counter. Chris trailed bemusedly behind them, shooting the pie tentative glances.

Sean chuckled and threw his arm over his shoulder. “I don’t think that happened.”

Danton shoved him off and swatted him in the side of the head. “Asshole.”

“Careful there! Butch will kill you if you give me a concussion.” Sean quirked an eyebrow as Danton rolled his eyes in return. The fucker never stopped.

 

Thanksgiving dinner, apart from the pie, was a success. Chris was a surprisingly good cook, and together the three of them managed to finish off a small turkey. After they cleaned up the dishes—Danton appointed himself chief dish-dryer—Chris pulled a bottle of wine out of the cabinet.

“You guys like Sangioveses?”

Danton took a sip of the glass that Chris had poured for him and smacked his lips lightly at the tang it created on the tip of his tongue. “That’s a good red, Wags.”

“Plenty more where that came from. Hey Kurls, what did you think of that video I sent you?” Danton leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes, listening to Sean and Chris talk about some conspiracy video they had stumbled across. He liked it here, hanging out with his best friends, a full stomach and a glass of wine. The regular season was in full swing, and for once he found he could finally take a full breath into his lungs.

 

Danton was drunk. That’s the only explanation he had for what was happening. After all, the three of them had just finished what he thought was their third bottle, and Chris had just pulled the cork out of a fourth.

“Let’s go boys!” He crowed, pouring another serving into Danton and Sean’s outstretched glasses. Danton grinned. His skin felt hot and he pushed the grey sleeves of his sweater halfway up his forearms.

“What’s the move, honorable Mayor?” Sean swept into an exaggerated bow, staggering slightly to the side and bumping into Danton as they both burst into giggles.

“A toast to your health!” Danton called, raising his glass as he tried to stay upright despite half of Sean’s body weight sprawled against him. They clinked their glasses together dramatically, taking a long sip. His heart was full and warm as he beamed at his friends, one strand of blonde hair flopping over his face. Sean’s arm was still slung around his shoulder, and if he really tried he could tell that he smelled like red wine and cinnamon. Danton liked cinnamon.  But he was drunk.

“Let’s go upstairs! I’ve got a den up there.”

They bounded after Chris, three half-finished wine glasses forgotten on the granite counter. Danton was partway up the stairs when a socked foot slipped out from under him. He flopped gracelessly onto the carpet, flailing an arm dramatically. “Fuck,” he sighed. The top of the stairs was so far away. Black socks and the hem of dark wash jeans blurrily made their way into his vision.

“Danny,” Sean giggled, “you only made it halfway.” He reached down and grabbed his outstretched hands, and began dragging him up the staircase. “Jesus, you’re heavy. I’m telling Butch.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Danton grumbled, head bouncing on every step. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but Sean had strong hands and this seemed a lot better than walking. But he was drunk. He scrambled to his feet once they reached the top, and jogged ahead to join Chris in the den. Chris’ den was cozy, with soft cream carpet tucked under chocolate couches that he sank into like a beanbag. Sean followed him, leaping up to stand on the matching ottoman.

Chris snorted from the other couch. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Sean cleared his throat, and held out the sides of his brown flannel like wings. “Danny?”

“Yes?”

“I’m a bird.” Danton gasped and rolled to the side as Sean proceeded to flop down next to him, grinning wildly.

            He poked him in the ribs. “You’re obnoxious.”

            Sean beamed. “You like me.” And proceeded to roll onto the floor. Danton coughed, trying to clear the tightness in his chest. He must be more drunk than he thought. “Hey. Hey Wags.”

            “Whassup Kurls?” Chris slurred from his position sprawled on the couch.

            “Wanna know my favorite song?”

            “You know I do.”

            Danton peered over the edge of the couch at him, raising an eyebrow. His curiosity quickly turned to a groan as Sean began humming the first verse of “Danny Boy”. After that, the rest of the song became unintelligible from between Sean’s giggles and Chris’ snorts. Danton grumbled, far more fondly than he intended, before squishing his face into a pillow. He was drunk, that’s all. He’d feel normal in the morning. He was drunk.


End file.
